Chapter 3: A Ride in the Country

That Sunday, after we returned from church, James suggested we take a picnic in the nearby fields. It was a very warm day, being the season known locally as ‘Indian Summer.’ Why is beyond me since there was not an Indian to be seen! I readily acceded, and while James prepared the horses and gave orders for a hamper to be filled, I went to my rooms to change into my new riding costume.

I should explain that there were two permissible modes for a woman to ride a horse. The first was sidesaddle, an awkward method requiring a special saddle which numbed the limbs and left one hanging precariously to the horse. The second involved what was known as a riding dress. This allowed a lady to sit a horse properly, but the dress, actually a voluminous pair of pants cunningly arranged to look like a dress, was overly bulky. I had noticed the ease with which the men rode and decided that an outfit more like theirs was in order.

This being considered, I had made my arrangements before we left for New York, and I entrusted Jenny and Bessie, two of the maids whom I had befriended, with their completion. Stripping down, I first put on a sturdy but pretty brassiere; a bosom such as mine does very well in all activities but the equestrian arts - I should be flopping around in the saddle ridiculously without one. I also put on a pair of abbreviated cotton bloomers, so that I might not chafe. Next, I donned one of James white silk shirts which I had had resized. James’ chest measurements were suitable for me, but otherwise it was too long, and needed gathering in at the sides. Finally, I pulled on a pair of pants made by Mr. Levi Strauss, of a sturdy and tough blue cotton denim. We had determined my size by the simple expedient of having the maids bring a pair from their lovers to me for testing. I would try them on, and the pants of the individual that fit me closest were noted. We then purchased a pair of Mister Strauss’ pants in that size. They fit me well enough in the seat, but were overly long, so they were cut to the proper length and hemmed. The last item was a pair of riding boots. Nothing was to be found in my size, so I simply rolled some socks up into the toes of the smallest pair I could ‘borrow’ and put them on. As long as there was no walking to do, I would be fine. I could have a bootmaker prepare proper footgear at a later date.

So attired, I made my way down to the foyer and went to where James was waiting. I could feel the stares from both the workhands and the maids as I walked to James. He was staring at me goggle-eyed, as was Mister Jack Strong, James’ chief foreman. It was he that spoke first. “Those are men’s clothes!” he exclaimed.

I smiled at him as I took James by the hand. “Really, Mister Strong, do you think I look like a man in these clothes?” I knew the answer because I had left the shirt unbuttoned low enough to show a considerable quantity of my bosom. Mister Strong began sputtering as he turned away, red-faced, and I turned towards my fiancée. “Are we ready to ride, darling?”

“My God, Caroline, but you will be the death of me yet! What in the world possessed you to do such a thing?”

“James, really! You must admit the utter impracticality of the riding dresses I have been wearing. I have simply changed to the clothing that you gentlemen find so practicable. Don’t tell me you think I look like a man?” As I said this, I shifted my posture slightly, thrusting my chest forward and exposing as much of my bosom to my love as I could.

James stared down at my boobies straining against the silk and he shook his head dumbly. He assisted me aboard Daisy, my mare, then climbed up onto Excalibur, a magnificent black stallion that was his personal mount. “Please don’t tell me that you plan on wearing pants around the house, Caroline.”

Checking to see that we were out of earshot of any listeners, Mister Strong wandering off and muttering under his breath, I answered, “Of course not, James. How would you be able to lift my skirts if I was wearing pants?” I surreptitiously loosened another button on the shirt, so that a hint of my brassiere showed forth, and James stopped complaining, and began to smile instead.

James chuckled at this as we began riding towards the fields. Dressed as I was, we were able to maintain a pleasant trot, much faster than we normally would have done, and James took me to a lovely field several miles from the mansion overlooking a small stream. It was a lovely vista, with the hills in the background and the trees beginning to turn a veritable rainbow of reds, yellows, and oranges. Alighting, I helped him with the hamper, then we tied the horses by the bridle to a nearby tree and removed their saddles. The saddle blankets found use as our picnic table, and we reclined for our luncheon.

The first order of business was opening a bottle of wine, which, perforce, we were required to drink straight from the bottle, there being no flat spot to set wine glasses upon. On my second sip, I managed to spill a small drop onto my sleeve, which James noticed. Smiling, he asked, “Darling, wouldn’t it be safer if you were to remove your blouse, so that you might not spill any more on it?”

My eyes widened at the mention of such a state, but I giggled and agreed. James and I had already kicked off our boots, and James had even removed his jacket and vest. Not for a second did I believe that James was concerned about the cleanliness of my attire, and the bulge in his pants indicated an entirely other sort of concern. I handed the bottle to James and unbuttoned his borrowed shirt, then pulled the tails from my pants and doffed it. I jiggled pleasantly as I opened the hamper and removed the sandwiches and roast chicken which had been packed away.